The Two Way Diaries
by kiwi2012
Summary: Hermione Granger pours her heart into her Diary. Draco Malfoy finds his an escape. Then, they start answering back to each other. And things start to get interesting. [Not your average cliche Dramione]
1. Chapter 1

[A/N Hi! Welcome to my first Dramione story! This chapter is short, but it's more like an introduction or a prologue. Please read and review, and let me know if I should continue[

Hermione Granger walked alone along the corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had just finished returning her books from the library, along with checking out quite a few more. After all, it was Christmas holiday; she had to do some reading.

She was nearly to the Girl's dormitory when she tripped over her feet, causing her to loose her balance and send her falling onto the floor, along with her books.

Ruffled and slightly embarrassed, she lifted herself off of the stone ground and slowly began picking up her books.

She turned around, looking for any more books she might've dropped behind her. Picking up a small book with black leather binding, she noticed the book did not belong to her.

Odd, she concluded, as she opened the cover looking for a name.

No writing was in the journal, or a name.

She stared at it in amazement as she watched gold letters appearing on the inside cover.

"This Diary Now Belongs To: Miss Hermione Granger."

Hermione closed the cover and opened it up again, hoping that the magically appearing letters had disappeared. The gold introduction was still there.

Giving in to her tired eyes and even curiosity, she put it in the pile of her library books and continued down the corridor.

The next morning, Hermione sat on her bed, running a hairbrush through her curly, brown hair and looking at the Diary she had found the night before.

_I could write in it_, she thought to herself. _It says it does belong to me._

Determining that she was going to bring it with her and think about the idea, she picked up her school bag and headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Draco, come downstairs! I have something to give you!" Narcissa Malfoy yelled to her son.

Her snobby, white blonde haired son skulked down the stairs of Malfoy Manor, obviously not wanting to deal with his mother.

"What is it, Mother? I'm busy." He said firmly, annoyed.

She walked over to him, holding a black-leathered journal. "This belonged to your grandfather, Draco, and I'm supposed to give this on to you after we discovered it in his will."

She handed it to him. He did not reach for it, but stared at it in disgust.

"Like I'm supposed to write in that thing? I'm not a girl, Mother! I don't write in diaries."

"I know, Draccy, I'm just supposed to give it to you. Do what you will with it."

Draco took it forcefully from her hand and turned on his heel to go back upstairs.

He walked up the steps, careless to what he was holding.

He dragged his feet back into his room and tossed the Diary aside onto the bed and continued doing his essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

_Why would I want to write in a stupid Diary, anyways?_ He thought. _I'm not going to write in that ugly old thing, or whatever my grandfather intended for me to do._


	2. Chapter 2

**[A/N Hello! Thank you so much for reading! Hopefully you haven't given up on an update, just yet. I know the last time I posted anything was Thursday or Friday, but Ohio has had a few big and nasty storms the last few days and I didn't want to risk loosing anything in a crash. I hope you get the idea of the story so far. I'm getting a few more tricks up my sleeve. I'm looking for more ideas about what to make Draco write about, so comment any ideas. But comment anyways, I'd appreciate it! Expect another update within the next few days! Keep reading this, it'll make more sense with the next few chapters! Love, Tori[/**

Chapter 2

Hermione sat on her bed under the covers, but looking at the Diary. It was a constant debate in her mind to either write or not to write.

It was strange to have such contemplation over a diary. She had found it mysteriously in the hall, and her name magically appeared in the cover.

Temptation rose over her to write down exactly what she was thinking, but the smart side of her told her not to. Who knew? This diary could be cursed, or it could be driven by a mind-controlling piece of soul.

_Just do it_, she thought. _It wouldn't hurt to write in ideas._

Before, she had always kept a diary. But now, she had found that with all of her extra classes and homework, she had not had time to write. But now, she was unoccupied with anything, seeing as how it was Christmas holiday, and she had a few things on her mind.

Soon after she had picked the Diary out of her bag and sat back up in her bed, she had begun writing in it.

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm not quite sure where to begin. I found you in the hall, and after complete thinking, I've decided to write in you after all. _

_Let me just get this off my chest, shall I? I don't want another Chamber of Secrets remake, here, so don't try and brainwash me. I could destroy this Diary just as easy as I could start writing in it. _

_It's Christmas holiday, and I decided to stay at school. Professor Snape gave us a huge assignment, which of course, I've already started. I still don't know why Dumbledore let him teach DADA. (I think he's lost his marbles.)_

_My friends have stayed here with me, though, so I'm not all that entirely bored. I just wish that he wouldn't be sucking Lavender's face off all the time._

_I'm not in love with him, but I mean seriously. Every moment he's not snogging her, he considers it a waste. Some things I just don't understand about that boy, Diary._

_Basically, I'm not all that troubled. But, I've confided in you anyways._

_Good night, Diary._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco picked up his school robes from the pile of washed clothes and threw them into his trunk. He would have normally had his personal house-elf do all of this work for him, but after several impatient calls for Dolly, no elf came.

"Stupid, insolent little vermin…" he muttered, tossing his school books into his case. "Why they let them run free in our Manor, I'll never know…"

After clearing what seemed like his whole room and packed the contents into his Slytherin trunk, the only remaining item was the old, ragged Diary.

"Useless junk. Why a Diary, for Merlin's sake?" Draco stared at it for a moment. Suddenly, after studying it more closely, a sudden urge in his mind beamed.

_It's a Diary; it's meant to be written in. _

_No, only people with problems write in Diaries. I have no problems._

_Oh, but I could write about anything!_

_No, it's a girl-thing._

_But it's so tempting, so…_

His thoughts arguing, he picked the Diary up as if he wasn't moving it at all. He had never looked inside of it, curious, he opened the cover.

Gold lettering magically appeared in the left corner, mesmerizing him.

"This Diary Now Belongs To: Mr. Draco Malfoy."

"Rubbish." Malfoy commented quietly, but the urge to think about his feelings, (which was a terrifying feeling for him) stayed.

X

Draco walked into a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, confusion hitting him when he saw that his loyal friends were not sitting in front of him.

He looked behind him, in almost desperate attempt to see them coming.

_Where the bloody hell are they? _Draco thought. _This is my compartment._

Unsatisfied, he sat relentlessly on a seat anyway.

Minutes passed and he was sure the train was moving, but still no signs of Crabbe, Goyle or even his showcase girlfriend, Pansy.

After settling that apparently they weren't going to sit with him, he resorted to staring out the window, watching the train station fall behind them and a soft, September day emerge.

Draco looked for something to occupy himself. He never did have the self-amusement to sit alone in boredom for long periods of time.

The train hit a bump, sending his carry-on bag tumbling to the floor of the compartment from above, and most of its contents spilled.

"Bloody hell." He cursed under his breath and leaned down to retrieve his items. His box of quills, Chocolate Frogs, and a bottle of Muggle soda lay on the floor in front of him but he paused when he saw the Diary by his foot.

_Aha, something to keep me busy!_

_No, Merlin's pants! It's a Diary, Draco!_

Once again, he looked at it, his mind racing to whether he had anything else to do besides resorting to writing his feelings.

Absentmindedly, he picked a quill and ink out of his box and picked up the Diary.

He opened it, and turned to the first page.

I don't know how this writing thing works, dammnit. Is it supposed to help sort of thoughts? I honestly wouldn't care if I knew anyways.

_Father isn't drinking anymore, but I suppose he'll go straight to demanding the house elf to bring him a 'firewhiskey, heavy on the whiskey" as soon as he hears that I'm back at school. Ever since he got out of that place with Aunt Bell, I could swear on Merlin's left buttocks that he's Imperiused. For bloody hell's sake, can't he just be normal again?_

_I'm on the train to school now. I can't wait to get my hands on those first years. That bloody oaf is teaching them to stand up for themselves. The only thing those half inches are good for is being a handy carrier for my scales, anyways. I can't see why they still accept half of those children anyways. They're just a load more of people to worship that bloody git._

_School's pulling up. I better stop now before anyone sees this stupid thing._


	3. Chapter 3

**[A/N Thank you for reading! Although I was a little disappointed at the number of reviews that I had gotten for the last chapter coughtwocough. Which is really surprising, because I could've swore that at least five people had added this story to their Story Alert.( I'm still confident! I guess beggers can't be choosers, eh?) SORRY I'M OFF SUBJECT. Anyways- I would just like to note that Dumbledore, nor Sirius or anyone else that could affect any story is STILL ALIVE. Just thought I'd note that for future reference. I hope the story is not too confusing. I guarantee that it WILL make sense, even if this chapter doesn't. Love, Tori. [/**

Chapter 3

Hermione walked down into the Common Room, surprised when she saw nearly all of Gryffindor rolling in from the Portrait Hole, arriving from the train.

"Did you have a happy Christmas, Ginny?" Hermione greeted her redheaded friend as she passed.

"Yeah! Fred and George decided that they wanted to sneak some Puking Pastilles into my butterbeer on Christmas Eve, and I hexed them both. Mum didn't really appreciate that they both had pig snouts and beaver tails on Christmas morning, but you should've seen the look on Dad's face!" she laughed to herself and walked into the Girl's dormitory.

It was nearing time for bed, and Hermione was starting to feel her eyes getting tired. She had been with Ron and Harry all morning down at Hagrid's, visiting Grawp.

She yawned at the thought of sleeping.

Though, she knew, that there would be no sleeping tonight because of the return of all of the other girls.

X

"So, Hermione," Mackenzie Ross, a girl that Hermione had 'minor disagreements' with (which were more like gigantic arguments that could lead to a potential girl fight) almost regularly, said, giving Hermione an evil smile. "Is the rumor true?"

Hermione looked over from her conversation with Ginny and glared at Mackenzie, confused. "What rumor?"

Mackenzie stood up to face her. "Oh, you know…the one that defines that you're secretly sneaking off to the bathroom during classes to have a little-" Mackenzie smirked. "Extra study hall with Potter?"

Hermione was infuriated as if someone had just sucker punched her, and stared at Ross with hatred.

"Oh, I see I've hit a nerve!" Mackenzie smiled and gave a hint of sneer in her voice.

"Listen," Hermione stood up. She had enough. "If you think that that rumor is true, you're definitely a lot more thick then I'd have guessed. But then again," she paused. "Maybe I should've known, seeing as how your hair is so matted with grease that it's preventing anything to get to your head."

Mackenzie, apart from half of the girls in the room that were staring at Hermione with amazement and smiles, looked, at last, outwitted and defeated.

Hermione gave a grin, pleased with herself, and made a take-that 'humph' and walked back over to her bed.

Eyes still on her and silence still in the room, Hermione grabbed the Diary from her schoolbag and trotted her way out of the dormitory, hearing people agreeing with her on her way out, and took the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower.

She arrived at the top of the Tower and sat down on the cold, stone ground, looking out the window that kept her separated from the night sky.

Opening the Diary to write in it again, she noticed a spilled ink spot on the cover.

She knew, for a fact, that she had not dripped any ink on the cover. (For if she did,m she would've cleaned it up immediately.

Settling that she must've done it accidentally (how else could it have gotten there?), she turned to the page she had written on.

Horror struck her in a heartbeat when she registered that the handwriting in her Diary did not match her own.

I don't know how this writing thing works, dammnit. Is it supposed to help sort of thoughts? I honestly wouldn't care if I knew anyways.

The entry continued and it filled the page.

Hermione stared at it, on the verge of either screaming or throwing it, because she knew, for absolute sure, that she had **not**, repeat _not, _written those words.

Forcing herself to read it, she read aloud to herself.

"Father isn't drinking anymore, but I suppose he'll go straight to demanding the house elf to bring him a 'firewhiskey, heavy on the whiskey" as soon as he hears that I'm back at school. Ever since he got out of that place with Aunt Bell, I could swear on Merlin's left buttocks that he's Imperiused. For bloody hell's sake, can't he just be normal again…"

Her eyes wide and stricken, she went back a page to see the cover to make sure it was her Diary.

Sure enough, it said in gold lettering, Hermione Granger.

_This is not my writing. These are not my words. Where's my entry? Because this certainly is not mine! I did not write of 'father drinking' and I did not, I know, write that first sentence. _Hermione's mind raced.

The Diary was still the exact Diary she wrote in the night before, but it did not have the entry that she had written.

_That's it; _she thought and sighed, _Its another mind-controlling journal._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco lurked lazily to the green armchair in the Slytherin common room. He was the only one up, seeing as how it was nearly the early morning hours.

In desperate attempt to lure himself into finding something to make him sleepier, he sat down on the chair, holding the Diary in his hands.

Taking out his quill from his pocket of his silk green pajamas, he opened the Diary to the page he had written in last.

He raised an eyebrow and stared at it in befuddlement when he saw the first few sentences.

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm not quite sure where to begin. I found you in the hall, and after complete thinking, I've decided to write in you after all. _

Draco was quite sure that that was not his handwriting (it was much too curvy) and he definitely knew that he did not use the words 'Dear Diary'.

He closed it and opened it back up again, peering at the title. He could've decided that it was not his Diary, but was confused when he saw that the Diary did indeed belong to him.

_Why the bloody hell is this not what I wrote?_ He asked himself.

He continued to read it, not because of interest, but to try and figure out why he was not looking at what he had wrote the night before.

_I'm not in love with him, but I mean seriously. Every moment he's not snogging her, he considers it a waste. Some things I just don't understand about that boy, Diary._

Even more confused then he was before, he closed the cover and stood up, determined that the Diary was not worthy of all of the thinking that he was starting to put into it.

**Review? Anyone? PWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE? **


	4. Chapter 4

**[Thank you to who all reviewed! I love you::ahem:: Sorry for the long wait. I had written this chapter before and I didn't like the way it felt so I wrote it over. (You'll be happy though; this is a long one.) Anyways- here's the next chapter. Hopefully it isn't too confusing. It was a rather difficult one to write. Just another reminder- Dumbledore's not dead. And, for this chapter, you have to just try and go with the flow. **

**_This is Hermione's writing_**

_This is Draco's writing._

* * *

The following morning, Hermione walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast. 

"Good morning, Harry," she greeted when she sat down between her two best friends. "You look particularly disinterested, today!" she rolled her eyes sarcastically at his tired look.

"Good morning, Hermione," Ron started mockingly. "You look particularly know-it-ally today!"

She glared at him, and picked up a biscuit.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Oh, Draco, you look absolutely pitiful this morning!"

"Well, gee thanks, Pans, I think that's the best compliment I've ever received!" Draco answered (sarcastically) crankily. He had hardly slept the entire night after he discovered that the entry in the Diary belonged to someone else. The idea, clearly, made him uncomfortable with thinking that the Diary naturally switched writers.

"Well, if you're going to be bloody snobby about it, I think I'll just sit beside Jessica instead." She humphed and stood up to switch places with Goyle.

Draco didn't mind this. On the contrary, he could care less what his girlfriend did. Their relationship was not, as everyone describes it, fully functional.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione had carried the Diary along with her, not because she planned on writing in it but because she wanted to see if it had any Dark magic placed upon it.

Her first thought was to ask someone that had had experience with this such as mind-controlling-self-souled Diaries, so she trotted her way up to Dumbledore's office after her classes.

"Professor Dumbledore?" she asked. She had never been inside of his office before. It was small, but round and high ceilinged. Moving pictures of Headmasters of the past lined the walls.

"Ah, yes, Miss Granger. I'm up here." He answered from above her head. He was peering out the window of the second story of his office, watching the Quidditch practice.

"Professor, I was wondering if you could help me." She walked up the spiral stairs and came to a stop when she arrived in front of her old but wise Headmaster.

"I'm glad to help such a wonderful student! What do you need?"

"Well," she continued. "I have recently found this Diary, and I wrote in it the other night." She watched him nod his head in understanding.

"But last night when I went to write in it again, I…the entry that I had made…it was gone and it was replaced with a different entry."

She could she that he was thinking about it, and she could also tell that he was ruling out the idea of it being Dark.

"May I see it?" he asked politely, holding his hand out gesturing towards her journal.

"Oh, yes, certainly." She handed the leather book to him, and he took it in his hands gently.

Dumbledore flipped through the pages and looked at the inside cover.

"Oh, my, Miss Granger! It seems that you have come across a rather rare Diary!" he seemed pleased with his discovery. "This is, I am sure, a Two-Way Diary. It has a connection with another Diary, a connection to a Diary at which it feels that it's owner is connected. It is no remake of Riddle's Diary, which I expect that you have already thought about. No, no. This is a great wonder of discovery!"

Hermione stood bewildered. She could have sworn on it, that it was cursed with a Dark connection.

"So…It's safe?"

"Yes. Yes, Miss Granger. There is nothing about this that is evident that it could be under any Dark spells."

Relieved, she took the Diary as he handed it back to her. "Thank you, Professor. I am glad to hear that it is not dangerous."

"It is my pleasure. Now, if you please excuse me, I am late for a meeting with Professor McGonnagal."

Hermione walked down the steps and opened the door.

"Thank you again, Professor. Have a good evening!" she stepped out the door and closed it behind her, please but amazed.

X

Hermione sat in an armchair with the Diary. She looked around the Common Room, where she was sitting. Only a few girls were there too, but giggling in the corner by the radio.

_Here goes nothing_, she thought, opening the Diary to the next blank page. She took out her quill and started writing.

_**Dear whoever is reading this, **_

_**Seeing as how this is a Two-Way Diary (I asked Dumbledore), I am now attempting to write in this thing again.**_

_**I had written an entry, and apparently, whoever is reading this now, got it. **_

**I don't know who you are, or even if you go to my school, but I thought maybe if you weren't totally freaked about it, we could keep writing.**

_**Merlin knows I need some excitement.**_

_**Sincerely yours.**_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had been far after classes and the breach of sunset was beginning to come when Draco Malfoy had managed to get away from his group.

They were always by his side, and as much as he felt more secure and more powerful with his followers, he came to find that the more he would hang out with them constantly, the more he was relieved when he was alone without them. His friends, or his followers, were also pureblood, rich and wealthy goody-two-shoes, and were influenced by Draco. He made them who they are, or rather, he liked to believe that without him, they would not be popular and they wouldn't have the pleasure of getting away with things.

Never in his life had he regretted being with his posse, but more than most of the time, he would feel like he had spent the last five and a half years being someone he knew he wasn't.

The realization came when his father pointed out that he was to become a Follower and get the Mark soon, and at that moment, Draco truly felt as though his friends couldn't get him out of it. He couldn't run and hide, he couldn't stand up to his father or the Dark Lord. He couldn't speak his true feelings.

His true feelings, he had not dared to speak out loud, for if he did, it would lead everyone to call him a liar and a cheat, and a traitor. If he spoke his true feelings, his family would most likely disown him, kill him, or anything of those lines.

Everyday, every second, ever moment he spent alive these days, he was ruled by one thing. That thing would keep him from doing anything he wanted to do, and it would haunt him to no end. Every movement, every action, everything he did he had to think it over. Not a minute went by without his thoughts going back to fear of the enemy that was eating away his insides and deteriorating every inch of insanity he had left.

The enemy that was regularly and constantly making his life a living hell was self-consciousness; paranoia.

Draco sat beside the lake under a tree, thinking about the things that he longed to become, the things that he longed to make appearance. If he had it his way, he'd dump his friends, quit school, disown his family and make a living on his own. But he knew that he could never do those things. For if he had even spoke of them, his family would never let him do anything. He couldn't do those things even if he didn't care about his family. His father was a Death Eater, and a very close one at that. Draco couldn't turn his back on the way his family was lead out to live, not now that he had agreed under the power of the Dark Lord, to become a Death Eater in his father's shadow. Once you're in with the Dark Lord's debt, you're never leaving. It's either keeping your promises or being killed. And as for Draco, he was the youngest in his family. He wasn't going to be responsible for not keeping pureblood in the name.

He would be forced to live a life of Following, a life of living death. A fate, to which Draco had always compared to, that was an honor just as much as a Cruciatus curse was enjoyable.

Biting his lip to hold back tears just incase someone would spot him, he reached inside his robes and pulled the Diary.

He had not even thought of it since he spotted that insolent entry that had replaced the one that he had written. Taking out his expensive self-inking quill, he looked around cautiously to see if anyone was watching.

He saw nothing but the Whomping Willow shedding its leaves entirely and an orange cat (that looked more like a wad of cotton with legs) running around.

He opened the Diary and looked at the first few pages.

Seeing a new message on the following page, he realized that whoever had written the replaced entry had written again.

_**Dear whoever is reading this, **_

_**Seeing as how this is a Two-Way Diary (I asked Dumbledore), I am now attempting to write in this thing again.**_

Relieved but still curious, he finished reading the message.

_Huh._ He thought to himself. _A Two-Way Diary._

He turned the page and was now looking at a blank one. Thinking of what to write for only a few seconds, he pressed his quill to the page and began writing.

So, a Two- Way Diary, eh? Bloody weird, if you ask me.

_So, I suppose whatever I wrote before, you saw, and assuming that you don't know me, I'm not worried if you know._

_I am glad to know that apparently this diary thing is not cursed._

_Believe me, I've had enough of Dark magic for a lifetime._

_And assuming that you don't know who I am, I feel no shame in telling you just about everything. You'll have to earn my trust if you still want to write, you know. To make sure you're worth it._

_What school, do you go to, anyway?_

Satisfied with himself, he made his way back up to castle, still as paranoid and self- conscience as always.

* * *

**So? How's THAT for an update?**


	5. Chapter 5

**[A/N: Whoa, sorry for such the long wait! I had to rewrite this over and over again because I couldn't get what I wanted out of it, and even now I think that it's not what I wanted, but I have to move on and make better chapters. This IS long and has A LOT of info in it. And holy h e doublehockystick this chapter was so hard to write! BE happy:-D Oh, and this is supposed to be rated a little higher because of the contents. It might be a bit disturbing…)**

* * *

Chapter 5

Draco waited impatiently for (Hermione) to answer back the next day. He was checking it in-between classes and during long periods of non-stop talking from his teachers. It was making him itch.

Now that he knew that there was actually someone that was going to answer his message, he felt like he had a little something to look forward to.

"Draco, why are you so antsy?" Pansy asked him during lunch, when he was bouncing his foot and checking the Diary when he thought no one was watching.

"Me? Antsy? No, it's nothing. Nothing."

She shrugged, and looked at him seductively. "I'm sure I could help you with that, you know." She leaned in and kissed him on the lips, and had once again, an emotionless and meaningless kiss. Draco noticed long ago that he had no more feelings for Pansy, and yet he stayed with her.

After he pulled away, he looked at her, hoping she wouldn't be upset that he had ended it.

She looked longingly into his eyes again, and this time, Draco saw in her mind that he was not the only guy she kissed that morning.

Finally, after he endured the rest of his classes with anticipation, he looked inside the Diary and saw the new message.

_**Earn your trust? How, exactly, and what makes you think that I can trust you? I would like something from you in return, if you want my trust. I'm not that easy. Did you think I'd just let myself go at you and tell you everything, since I don't know who you are? I'm sorry, but if that if what you thought, you were very wrong.**_

_**As for which school I go to, I go to Hogwarts. Which House, I'm not sure I should tell you just yet. Write back on how we are to gain each other's trust. I would like to hear from you later this evening, as I find myself impatient to waiting.**_

Draco read it all through. Cockiness, he concluded, a bit of pleasure coming to him as he read the attitude in the note. He looked around. There were too many people around him, in the Common Room; too many witnesses. He'd have to wait to write back.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione paced the Girl's dormitory, longing for the Diary to write back. She stopped mid walk. Why was she so anxious? Was it because she was just bored and looking for something to occupy her? Or was it because the feeling of having someone out there and communication with someone else made her feel antsy? She didn't know why she was as restless as she was waiting for them to write back.

_Any moment_, she kept telling herself_. I said I'd like to hear from them later this evening_.

Minuets turned to hours up in the dormitory. She was lying on her bed, doing her Arithmacy essay, when she looked over at the open for the umpteenth time.

Her heart skipped a beat and she jumped, seeing a new entry written.

_Cockiness…I like it._

_Earning my trust would require a few things. You must prove that you are loyal of my time, and that you will not go on and blab this out to anyone. You have to show me that you're serious, not just a giddy schoolgirl on a power-drive._

_The first thing that you need to do is tell me your deepest, darkest secret. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours. It can't just be something that is just any old secret. It has to be a secret that haunts you and is so deep and dark and disturbing that you can barely go a day without thinking about it. Easy enough? You decide._

_Answer back tonight at midnight. And when you read mine, make sure no one is around you. Not even that orange fluff all cat that likes to follow people around the castle. _

Hermione stared at the page, horrified. Her deepest, darkest secret?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco glanced at the clock. It was now 11:45 PM, and they were supposed to be writing back at midnight.

Expectancy bubbled in the pit of his stomach. Was he prepared to tell them his secret?

This was his chance for a fresh start. This was his chance to show somebody who he really was, and not who he lied to be. For only a second he found himself suggesting that he could cheat them out, and not tell his secret, but the real side of him overruled that. Lost in his thoughts, he was startled when the clock hit midnight and rang.

Nearly stumbling over his own feet to get the Diary from the armchair, he felt almost exhilarated as he fumbled to the page.

_**My secret? You want to know my secret? Why, so you can go and have a laugh at it? Is that why you want me to expose it? Do you expect me to come out and tell you who I am and what I've done regrettably? **_

_**Unless you give me one good reason why I should tell you, it's going to stay a secret of mine. **_

Draco squinted at it. This was not what he had expected.

He sat lazily down in the chair and took out his quill to write back.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione squeezed her eyes tight, telling herself that she could just abandon the Diary now before she even had to tell them her secrets. She was getting worked up over nothing, her conscience kept assuring her. They haven't even answered back yet, she thought, and I'm already fretting over a stupid secret.

Moments passed by while she was waiting and it was now far passed one in the morning. What was taking them so long?

She looked at the page, her eyes now glued to the writing that she had long awaited.

_A reason? I'll tell you the reason. It's because I've got a damn good feeling that you have got no clue who I am and so you have no idea that I've spent the last six years lying to myself and everyone around me, therefore you might just be the only person who wouldn't be expecting me to be somebody, and quite frankly, it's obvious that both of us have nothing to loose by trusting each other._

Hermione stared blankly at the parchment. Was that reason really what she was looking for? She thought about it a little more. They were right- she had no clue who they were and, as much as she didn't want to accept it, they both had nothing to loose.

She took out her writing utensil and began writing on the next page what she had rehearsed in her mind.

_**Okay. I'll tell you my secret. But I swear on Merlin's soul, if I hear it anywhere around this school, I WILL track you down and CURSE YOU INTO OBLIVIOUN. Do I make myself clear? I hope so. This has never left my mind, and I do think that you've proven you're point and reason.**_

_**I didn't always want to be the person I am. There was a point where the insults were so hurtful that it tore through me and it came to the spot where I decided that I didn't want myself to be who I am. Sometimes I think that I was possessed; I can hardly remember what happened when I just snapped and what I was thinking and what I was doing. I was trying to rid myself of my blood, because I was unhappy with what it was. (Pathetic, right?) It went on like that for a while. Nobody noticed, nobody even considered that I'd be the girl that was running off to bathrooms to slice open my skin. And that, my friend, is my deepest, darkest, uttermost-disturbing secret.**_

Hermione wiped the tears from falling down her cheeks. She could have lied and told him something else, but she was tired of lies. She wanted to cleanse her conscience. She looked over the parchment again, and was distracted by the wet spots on the paper and she hoped that they would not seep through to the other Diary.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco lay on the floor in front of the fire, staring at what he had just read. He understood it. He knew what they were talking about. It was bewildering to him to know that someone would possibly do that to themselves.

Time lapsed a bit further, and he finally brought himself to sit up and grab a quill to carry on their agreement. He couldn't believe what he was doing.

He was going to tell some random, anonymous person his innermost secret, but yet he had nearly any idea if he would tell the truth. Part of him gasped for an outlet, some type of escape for him to release what he was feeling. He needed to get it off his chest; he needed to tell some living soul. The other part of him wanted him to throw that Diary in the fire, forget about it and never let anyone know anything about him.

It was a battle within his mind, and it was starting to annoy him.

Fairly exasperated, Draco put his pen to the parchment and began writing for his escape.

_Very good. I'm sorry, though, for what you've been through. I suppose what I'm about to tell you will most likely come off as a bit frightening, and for that I'm sorry also. But I'm a man of my word, and it is only to our agreement that I tell you my secret as well. (Mind you, I have sources that could let me know if any of this leaks beyond these yellow pages.)_

_It is tradition and mandatory that all men in my family to become Death Eaters. I will become of age in nearly six months, therefore I have to get the Dark Mark and I have to follow in my father's footsteps. But that's not the worst part, as bad as that seems. The worst part of it is that I don't want to do it. I have always bragged about being of age and moving on to bigger and better things, but the truth is that I'm terrified of whatever those bigger and better things are. I'm constantly thinking that someone's following me, watching everything I do. I can't say what I really want to, because if I did, I'd be killed and my name would be shame. I'm never happy anymore- just terrified. That's my secret._

* * *

**So? Comments? Please? I'll give you a cookie! **


	6. Chapter 6

**[A/N: This chapter is shorter, but the next one will probably be longer. I've decided that I write Draco a lot better than I do Hermione, so you'll be seeing a little more on his side, most likely. I hope you like this chapter- it was a fast one but it's one of my favorites. Everything will straighten out, don't worry. :-D**

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Chapter 6

The following day went quiet. It was boring, unexcited. Draco had not heard back from the Diary all morning, and he was nearly sure he scared them away. He knew it would happen. People always get scared when they learn that someone is a Death Eater. Draco hated it, loathed it with such bitterness that he'd end his life if he'd ever feel as if he would need to end someone else's on the Dark Lord's bidding. His father, on the other hand, would not hesitate for a moment to kill someone, even if they were innocent. Draco's father never understood why Draco had acted the way had when he found out that he would need the Dark Mark as soon as he came of age, in which Draco cut himself off from all family members for nearly a week, staying up in his room.

Dinner that night went slow. It was eerie, like something terrible was about to happen.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione sat beside Ron and Harry, trying to study and eat her dinner at the same time at the Gryffindor Table. Her 'Advanced Potion-Making' book was propped up against the bowl of mashed potatoes as she read along the lines of what they'd be writing their next assignment on for the following day.

Consumed in concentration while reading and eating, Hermione jumped at a sudden racket from above, causing her spoonful of pumpkin pie to plop onto her lap.

She peered up at the ceiling, looking for the source of the noise. A very large owl, which was uncommon to fly into the Great Hall at dinnertime, was swooping towards the Slytherin table.

"Oh, look." Harry pointed out, as the owl landed in front of their blonde haired enemy. "Mummy's probably sending him hugs and kisses."

Hermione gave a faint smile as Ron commented also. An abrupt sound came from the green table as soon as Hermione turned back to her book, and she looked around her shoulder to see what the girls behind her were whispering loudly about.

Draco Malfoy was walking hurriedly down the isle, and soon stormed out of the grand doors in what looked like an upset rage.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco reached outside of the Great Hall and toward the moving stair steps, anger and frustration flowing through his veins. He ran until he felt like he was about to vomit, winding up in front of the entrance to the dungeons.

He raised his fist and thrust it against the stonewall, letting his anger escape. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, he wanted to cry. He punched the same stone over and over again, until his knuckled were scraped raw and bled. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his eyes streamed with rage. He wanted to leap from the tallest tower, he wanted to take out his wand and curse himself, he wanted to do nothing but lie down on the stone floor and die forever.

"Draco."

Draco looked away from the stone he had left bloodstains on and peered behind him.

"What do you want?" He asked bitterly and quietly, his voice shaking.

Severus took Draco's shoulders and made him face him. "What is going on?"

"Nothing." Draco looked away. Now that his anger had suppressed and the burning in his hand had came to the surface, his rage had gathered in his throat as tears. "Nothing. Just leave me alone."

"I saw you leave right after your father's owl flew in. Has he set the date?"

Draco looked at the ground, and nodded.

"Draco, listen to me." Snape's voice was stern. "As your godfather, I'm supposed to be looking out for you. No, stop it. Look at me."

Tears had escaped Draco's eyes regrettably as he looked up at his guardian.

"You need to do this. Your father has plans for you."

"But what if I don't want these plans? What if I hate them! Why can't I make my own decisions? I'm not a child! I can make choices for myself! Why is this any different?!" Draco was yelling, a foot in front of Snape, anger flooding his gray eyes.

"Don't you dare act like this, Draco! You know there is no other way! It is not your choice to make! Your master has requested you, and you need not to complain! It is an honor, Draco! You should be honored!"

"Well, I'm bloody hell not honored! You're lucky I haven't ended myself! You have no idea how it feels, do you? You weren't in my position! Don't tell me what I can feel and can't!"

Snape's eyes were unreadable. "Stop. You're acting like a child, Draco."

"Well, that's how you treat me, isn't it? You act like you're my father when he's not around! You're not my father, and neither is he! No one's my family anymore! I can't even do anything without seeing you around the corner!"

And with that, Severus grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him hard across the corridor and around the corner.

"What are you-"

"Look at this." Severus pulled up his left sleeve, revealing the black Dark Mark on his paper white skin. "You see this?"

Draco stared at it, disgusted.

"This is not the end of the world, Draco!"

Tears gathered up in his throat again, but he swallowed them hard.

"Stop it!" Draco shouted after a second's silence. "Stop acting like it's normal!" his voice echoed against the stones.

"It is normal for you! It's not tactless, it's not meaningless. It is what is planned for you!"

Draco couldn't stand it any longer; he couldn't hold it in any longer. He thrust his arm out of Severus' grip and turned with his fists clenched.

"Stop trying to make me like one of them. Stay. Away. From. Me." He whispered, and then ran back towards the staircases.


	7. Chapter 7

**[A/N: Here you go! I'm sick, and a bit out of it, but yet I still updated! Feel special, do you? You better. ::teehee:: I hope you like this. It was a bit of a fun one to write. The next one will probably be interesting…I've got some things up my sleeve. Oh, and just a show of hands: Who here is a fan of My Chemical Romance? I'm thinking of starting a series of one shots based on each songs from the Revenge album…I haven't decided. MY main priority is this story, though…because, basically, this is my life.**

* * *

Chapter 7.

**Darkness.**

Draco's mind flooded with memories and flashbacks like a broken slideshow. Over and over, his recollections blazed before his conscience.

"_Draco Lucious Malfoy, do you accept the agreement that you are to fulfill the Dark Lord's wish and become one of his own?" A deep, dark voice echoed through an iron mask. _

"_Yes. I accept." Draco said, no choice other than to._

"_And do you, Draco Lucious Malfoy, accept the honor of the Dark Mark?"_

"_Yes, I accept."  
"Do you understand that once your agreement has reached the Dark Lord, that if you wish to withdrawal on your part, death will be enforced upon you and your family?"_

"_Y-yes…I a-accept." _

Darkness rose from Draco's mind as he gasped in pain, a sudden lunge hitting his side. His eyes shot open, wet from crying, and was staring up at the figure in front of him.

A young girl with curly brown hair stood above him, pulling back her foot in which she had kicked him.

"What are _you_ doing here, _mudblood_?" Draco hissed, trying to lift himself up with his weak arms.

"Actually, I believe the question is, why are _you_ here, ferret?" Hermione Granger's voice was acidic.

Draco looked around at his surroundings. "Where the bloody hell is this?"

"In front of the Fat Lady portrait. Not nearly anywhere close to where you're supposed to be."

Lifting himself off of the ground, he realized that he must've fainted while running his way back to the common room.

With a sneer, he walked off, towards his original destination.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione stood in front of the Common Room, puzzled. Why had Draco Malfoy been passed out in front of the portrait? And had he been…crying?

"Hermione? Hello, anyone in there? Hermione? Her-Mi-On-EE?"

Hermione snapped back into reality and looked at Ron.

"Oh. Hi." She said weakly.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing really. Except that Malfoy was passed out in front of our portrait and looked like he had just undergone a few emotional breakdowns." She said quickly.

Ron roared with laughter. "Malfoy? Passed out? Emot-" more laughter came from him, and Hermione let out a fake giggle, to go along.

"What's so funny?" Harry walked beside Ron, carrying nearly all of his books.

"Hermione just- she- AHAHA- Malfoy was passed out and 'e l-looked 'ike he was- HA- cryin'"

Harry smiled and laughed too, but Hermione still didn't see what was so funny.

She loathed Malfoy, she would kill him if she didn't think it was wrong, but yet she couldn't bring herself to laugh over it. The look on Malfoy's face before she kicked him was disturbing, like he was having a painful dream. His eyes were red and puffy, from crying and she knew it. It was not a good look for him, and she had to admit that not too many looks were bad for him, either.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Draco immediately found the Slytherin Common Room, pulling himself together as he went. He friends spotted them and came like bees attracted to honey, sticking to his side as soon as they could.

"Draco, where have you been?" Pansy wrapped her arms around his front and kissed him.

The feeling was gone, and Draco wasn't in the mood to deal with her asking questions about why he never kissed her back anymore.

"Pansy, not right now. I just want to get to bed."

"But, but I thought we could, you know, sneak down to the Prefects bathroom for a bath." She ran her hands down his back and brought them back to his muscular stomach, smiling like a whore desperate for money.

"Not tonight, Pans." Draco tried to wiggle out of her grip, but was careful not to upset her.

"Fine." She said after a long time, letting go of him. "Good night."

She turned and left so quick that Draco was trying to decide whether he was amazed or relieved.

He walked up to the dormitory and walked over to his bed, but not to go to sleep. Looking around, just incase someone was watching, Draco rummaged through his bedsheets to find what he was looking for: A way to escape and be himself, his Diary.

_It's so stupid. It's not fair. It's not even sensible. Why the bloody hell do I have to do this? It's not that I'm scared- I'm damned terrified. Sometimes I wonder why I keep living in the first place. I hate it- I want to be myself. I want to start over. I don't want to go through this! I want to live, I want to live free. If I'm not free, honestly, I don't see the point in living at all. It doesn't make sense. I want to love, I want to have ambitions, I want to not have to worry all the time what people think of me. I can't even turn a corner without looking behind my back to see if someone's following me. It's bad enough being watched by my damned godfather. Nobody understands it. Nobody can possibly be in this situation. I have dreams over and over and over again about the night that I was forced to agree to this Hell. Over and over, I always scream when I wake up. I see them dead, all of my family, all the time because I didn't go through with it. My mother, she doesn't deserve to die, honestly. My father, though, I would be relieved to see him killed. I could care less about what they do to him. It's everyone's lives on my line, and I'll be forced to watch them die if I don't be a Death Eater. Why the bloody hell do I keep living, honestly? It's not worth it. _

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione woke up that morning, still confused about Malfoy. She didn't know why it bothered her so much, but the fact that he was crying and passed out in the corridor made her wonder if it was serious.

Mid breakfast, she began to look over her notes again for the test she was taking in an hour. Putting her Advanced Potion Making book back into her bag, she noticed the Diary inside.

She reached down and got it, hoping nobody would notice her, seeing as how Ron was too busy sleeping with his head on his oatmeal and Harry was trying to squeeze in as much answers off of her paper onto his as possible.

Hermione opened it up, and strangly enough, she was excited to see another entry.

After reading it through, her mood seemed as changed as ever. It made her feel sorry, emotionless, and amazed to see that anyone would ever have to go through as much as he's going through. She looked around the Great Hall, desperate for any signs of anyone who would be feeling this way.

Determined to state her opinion, she took out her quill and wrote a response. She couldn't let anyone keep thinking these things, even if they were going through something this horrible.

_**Life isn't about why you're living the way you are: it's about doing what you have to do to keep what you are living for alive. **_

_**My grandfather said that to me, when I was going through my problems. He said that I need to keep on living, because even if life is feeling like Hell, there will always be a reason why I'm still breathing, and that reason is usually found inside your heart.**_

_**It sounds like you need a reason to live. It looks like you're feeling like there's no way out, and you're trapped inside someone that you don't want to be, but you need to be there to keep yourself and everyone around you alive. I can see why you're scared. Believe me, I would be too. People around you, (Death Eaters) are probably telling you that it's normal, right? And you know that they're wrong, because it's not normal, right? Well, stick to what you know- keeping everyone alive on your hands is not a glass of pumpkin juice, and it takes strength to admit that you need to keep going. **_

_**Don't feel negative for yourself- keep thinking that you're doing the wrong thing for the right reasons.**_

_**Try finding something worth living for. Then life will have a whole knew meaning.**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Oh my Lanta. I am so sorry for the lack of update. It just so happens that my little town in Ohio, (and all the surrounding little towns) got an unexpected flood, (we had about three feet deep water in our yard and everyone around us' basements) and therefore, or main power plant of our town broke down, leaving us cableless and internetless, and busy with the clean up. Plus, I've got more than enough of dram going on, and my first day of eighth grade was yesturday, and they seem to think I have all of this time on my hands, considering they are giving us tons of homework and my teachers think that I have a lot of time so I can help them schedule the dances and stuff. Jeez-ow.**

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Chapter 8

Over the next few days, Draco felt himself slip from being haunted by himself to being more full, with different feelings that he didn't know how to describe. It was like he was watching himself change, but really he wasn't changing on the outside. He noticed that his acting was excellent, but his feelings were building up on the inside.

Never in his life had he ever felt that he would ever have serious conversations, but yet Draco kept revealing his innermost feelings and opinions to an identity he only knew through pages of a Diary. He told the Diary that he was feeling more and more depressed everyday, with every second adding up to the next week, in which he was to get the Dark Mark. He wanted to escape the darkness; he didn't want to be swallowed into it more.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione told everything, to the point where when she went to write nearly every hour, to the point where she almost had nothing left to tell.

She was feeling so much happier, knowing that there was someone out there that was hearing her out, and understanding her, other than Harry and Ron.

She was terrified for the person that she was talking to, feeling like she was watching someone fall apart to pieces. The person she was talking to was not just writing to her, they were confiding her with their secrets and feelings.

No one else, she imagined, could ever understand her as much as them, and she figured no one else had ever understood them as much as she did.

Hermione wondered why she couldn't figure out whom it was that she was talking to. It had to be someone that she almost could've never met, seeing as how this person was someone that was so secretive. But then she remembered that he'd told her that he'd been acting his personality for the last six years, so it could be _anybody_.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After Draco had gone down to his supper, he realized that he had an urge to write in the Diary. Actually, it wasn't much of an urge, it was more of a crave for contact with that person. He was feeling like he was floating on clouds as he walked to the common room, a sense he had never really never had before.

He wrote, and wrote, and wrote that night, until he felt empty of emotions except for a sensation he couldn't explain.

His heart raced when she answered back, racing so fast it was like he had just run through the castle.

He lay in bed that night and he finally told himself that he was falling for someone through pages, without even knowing who they are.

He needed to find this person, he needed to meet the person who was making him feel the way he was, he needed to know the person that he was telling everything to.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione woke up after a long night of dreams and looked absentmindedly at the next pages of the Diary, that was now located halfway through the book itself.

She felt like her insides were fizzing over when there was an entry there, and she read it through almost longing to know more.

She couldn't possibly, she told herself, be in love with someone she only knew through a Diary.

But her conscience knew that there was no other explanation to the way she felt when she traced her fingers over his handwriting.

She wanted to see him; she wanted to know who was hiding.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That morning, Draco decided he couldn't keep his feelings in anymore. He needed to know whom he was talking to, for he felt like he would explode.

So the next second he had the Diary in his hands, he wrote a message he knew would change everything, expose him and reveal himself to someone he'd known throughout a Diary.

_**We need to meet. I can't take the suspense anymore.**_

_**There's a tree, behind the Slytherin stands on the Quidditch pitch. Meet me under it tonight after dinner. **_

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione froze. She was debating whether they had been serious.

Of course they were serious, she concluded.

During dinner, she was so jittery and shaky that Ron and Harry had contemplated whether they were going to drag her down to the hospital wing. She knew that she was only nervous, but she didn't feel the need to tell them why. She didn't tell them about the Diary, nor did she ever mention that she thought that she was in love with someone that she didn't even know the identity of.

"Why are you in such a hurry, 'Mione?" Ron asked as they were standing up.

Reaching down quickly to her bag and turning towards the isle, she stopped. "Oh, you know. Studying. Lots of studying, lots of tests."

"Well, Ron and I have the same tests, but we don't have notes. D'you want to study with us?" Harry asked, walking over to her.

"Well," she hesitated nervously. "I thought that I'd go out and find a tree… and watch the sunset while studying for Ancient Runes."

They retreated after she said that, but they were still unconvinced. "Yeah. Okay. See you later, then?"

She nodded and half-walked-half-trotted down the isle and out of the Great Hall, anxious to get to the Quidditch Pitch.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The cool, spring air blew softly as Draco reached the tree behind the Slytherin stands. He had been waiting for this moment impatiently all day; the moment when he'd meet the girl he'd been talking to.

Lost in thought, he jumped a foot in the air when he heard footsteps behind him.

He swore under his breath. Standing, frozen, in front of him was Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger-

_Mudblood_

_Too smart for her own good_

_Goody-Two-Shoes_

_And is a friend to inseparable Weasel and Potty._

"What are you doing here?" they shot at each other with the same hate and attitude at the same time.

"I, unlike you, have a life and am waiting for someone." Draco spat.

Her eyes narrowed. "Waiting for whom?"

He smirked. "Like I would tell you." Then it occurred to him. Was she waiting for someone…too?

She stared at him in the eye, trying to look beyond his appearance. After staring with hatred and loathing for what seemed like hours, fear gathered inside of her involuntarily. **She had seen it. She had seen the passion and the faking and the scared interior of him; she had seen what she had understood all of this time**. She gasped and turned away, looking the opposite direction.

"It's you." She whispered to herself, wishing nothing more then to smack herself across the face. "You're the one I've been talking to."

Draco took a step back. "No, I don't know what you're talking about. I don't talk to Mudbloods."

"In the Diary, you git. I know it was you."

"Wh-no- I- how do you know that?"

"Because, ferret! I was told to meet you here, under the tree behind the Slytherin stands! It's me." She wanted to run away, she wanted to cry, she wanted to distance herself.

He shook his head. "Unbelievable."

Then, without any further ado, Hermione turned on her heels and started walking away in the opposite direction.

Draco watched her, unsure of how or what to do. "Wait." He shouted after her, without thinking first.

She stopped, but there was a struggle. "What?" she asked quietly.

"You-you said something to me the night after I wanted to end my life. What was it?" He wanted to make sure, just one last time, one last desperate attempt to refuse the truth, that it really was Hermione Mudblood Granger.

She bit her lip. She could lie; she could say she was lying. But she knew she couldn't lie about what she had said. "I said…find something worth living for." And with that, she took off walking faster, and rounded the corner, struggling to hold back tears in fear of he might still see her.

After she was to the castle entrance, she pulled around the shadowed corner of the gray building and slid down the cold, stonewall, curling up into a ball. Disbelieving but knowing it was the truth about whom she had been talking to, she sat in silence and cried until the withstanding echoes of the wolves howls flowed around the full-moonlit sky.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the wait...Have you ever been in marching band? It's time consuming. Here you are. I'm sorry if it's not as good as you were hoping, but I hope you'll like what I have planned in the next chapters. 3 Tori  
**

Chapter 9

It was cold; cold and wet. Her body shook slightly with the chilling wind and moisture.

"Her-Hermione?"

Someone was calling her name, but she didn't move from her dreamless sleep. Feeling a small and gentle push at her side, she opened her eyes slowly.

"Hermione, what are you doing out here?"

The sun peaking in over the opposite side of Hagrid's hut blinded her. Rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes, she looked up at the person in front of her. He was bright red-haired, wrapped in his red and gold sweater.

It occurred to Hermione that she had been there, against the outside wall of the school, all night after what had happened.

Tiredness left her and she flowed with anger, then relief, and suddenly, sadness.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked her, helping her up. Her robes were moist with the springtime dew.

"N-yes." She gained her balance back and brushed herself off. "Yes. I'm fine. I just…got carried away with the studying and fell asleep."

"Are you _sure_?" He asked, and the word sure made her want to say no, because on the inside she felt beyond broken.

"I just fell asleep, Ronald! Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because," he leaned towards her and traced his finger down her cheek, starting from her eye and stopping at her chin. "You've been crying."

Hermione reached up immediately and touched her face. She gasped. The events of the night before came to her mind and she wished insanely and desperately for them to permanently remove from her head.

"C'mon. Let's get you something to eat." He led her up the hill and around the castle.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sitting and staring at nothingness, Draco swore at himself. How could he have let himself get so attached so something that was so meaningless, only to find disappointment?

He tried telling himself that he knew it from the beginning. But he knew that he didn't.

He tried telling himself that he never felt any unconditional feeling for the person in the pages, but that was a lie.

And he also scolded himself over and over for being so bloody stupid, and he deserved to be disappointed.

Granger!

He would have never guessed, in his whole life, and even of hatred of her, that she was the one that he was talking to, let alone feeling so different for.

He knew it was real. He knew it was really her that was in the Diary. He just wanted to deny the ashamed feeling that flowed from him. He was frustrated, he was angry and he was confused. He was relieved, but he was empty.

He almost felt betrayed. Betrayal, because he felt almost as if there were no more feelings or secrets inside of him because he gave them all to her, only find that she was the one person he loathed.

Draco sat under the tree in front of the lake. He watched the dark water slash against the bank in front of him. Inside, he longed for the will to sink into the chilled water and stay there, drowned to darkness of the territory where no one could find him.

Why was he wishing for such a dark and twisted end, he did not know. He didn't know if it was because he was emotionally unstable, or that the reality that he had no way out of officially starting the serving of the Dark Lord in four days.

The one person he once thought would somehow be a salvation and help him out of this mess was really the one person he knew wouldn't even think of it.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione knew three things: Draco was the one in the Diary, he was going to be a Death Eater, and he was crazily suicidal.

She didn't tell Ron or Harry any of this; as far as they were concerned, she was studying. However, she wanted so badly to speak, but found she couldn't verbally do anything. There were so feelings that were inside of her. She couldn't even begin to explain to herself mentally how it felt.

She couldn't eat when she was sitting in the Great Hall. She didn't want to say anything; she couldn't. Her eyes wandered from table to table, searching subconsciously for Malfoy at the Slytherin table. It didn't surprise her when he wasn't there. She had not been expecting it, but she knew he'd be too ashamed to even face himself.

Draco Malfoy was unhappy with the life he was living. She knew why, and she knew how badly he wanted his life to be over. What scared her was her will to want to help him.


End file.
